


The Stiles' LemmingWay

by Angeluscaligo



Category: Sterek - Fandom, Teen Wolf (TV), teen wolf - Fandom
Genre: Budding Love, Friends to Lovers, Friendship, Hijinks & Shenanigans, M/M, POV Derek, POV Stiles, Protective Derek, Shapeshifter Stiles, Shapeshifting
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-12-22
Updated: 2017-09-07
Packaged: 2018-05-08 07:20:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 10
Words: 16,599
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5488589
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Angeluscaligo/pseuds/Angeluscaligo
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Stiles gets bitten during a fight between the pack & a hag/shape-shifter duo, everyone is anxious to see what is going to happen when Stiles displays no signs of transformation. Finally, a supermoon rises & the true nature of Stiles' inner-beast becomes apparent.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Nature of the Beast

Stiles had been bitten.

The realization of what had just happened was slow to come to Derek, the quick event playing itself over in slow-motion in his mind, & after having been yelled at several times by Scott, his alpha decided he had to intervene himself & jumped unto the hag & shape shifter they had been fighting, desperately hanging on & enraged trying to claw out their eyes or tear out their jugulars. Finally roused from his stupor by Scott’s loud roars to the other beta’s to help them, Derek finally moved & rushed over to Stiles’ side, where Lydia was already inspecting the wound, cradling the shock-suffering teen in his arms as Lydia let him nearer. “Stiles? Stiles, stay with me. Look at me, Stiles! Don’t you do this to me!” Stiles’ eyes were glassy, all the muscles in his lithe body twitching uncoordinatedly & he kept seizing as his eyes slid back, leaving only white. The last thing Stiles consciously remembers from that evening is Derek’s voice, soft & distant, pleading him not to leave him alone…

Two tense and long weeks had passed, & now the moon was both full and at its highest peak in a long time. All the wolves in the pack could feel the call in their bones & the less disciplined ones, under guidance of Scott & Isaac, had once more resigned themselves to the panic-room, where they’d wolf out during the coming night in an attempt to learn control once more. But more than anything else, everyone was worried about Stiles. Ever since he had been bitten by the shape shifter, he had displayed none of the usual signs of shifting & some had momentarily been afraid that perhaps Stiles would turn out a kanima like Jackson had, considering how he had neither rejected the bite nor seemingly accepted it. But no murders happened, no strange events, nothing. Only Stiles being Stiles. And yet, in spite of the so far clean record on Stiles’ behaviour, Derek knew that tonight might finally bring out the beast in the lanky teen & had been busily preparing for the night. They knew, both of them, that if anything were ever to happen, it’d be tonight. So here they were now, Stiles being chained in a separate panic-room from the others, with Derek closing the clasps & chains around him, locks holding the iron wrought devices up about Stiles’ form.

“God, Derek, pull them tighter, why won’t you?” Derek grunted at Stiles’ usual display of sarcasm & pulled mockingly at the chain. Stiles snorted before chuckling. “A for effort, Der, A for effort.” Derek grunted again, in way too bad a mood to put up with Stiles’ snarky replies. He was worried sick & only hoped that Stiles wouldn’t hurt himself in the coming night. They only had half an hour left before the moon’d rise & Derek could already feel it calling him. “Shut up, Stiles. None of this is funny & you know it. We won’t know what’ll happen so I’d prefer you having a few bruises over you having to be put down because you go feral.” Stiles smirked at him as Derek turned. “Yeah, because a lanky spastic teen is obviously gonna be a terrifying werewolf.” Derek turned back about, glaring directly into Stiles’ amber eyes. “I’m more afraid of you annoying every citizen of Beacon Hills to death as a snark-wolf than of you killing them as a werewolf.” Stiles gaped aghast, unbelievingly watching after Derek as he went up the stairs to lock the panic-room down. “Derek Hale making a pun? I must have died already because this either heaven, hell or both.” 

Derek tuned out Stiles’ banter & closed the heavy aluminium-silver door behind him, locking it up & pushing down the bars in front of it. Whatever was to happen now, Stiles would not be able to get out without clawing through several feet of concrete, metal or brick. Letting out a shuddery sigh, Derek leaned back against the door & let himself slid down unto the floor, barely hearing Stiles talk idly to himself as the teen was wanton to do when bored & alone. He could sense Peter observing him from afar in the living room, casually watching Derek & the door as they both awaited the moonrise. After twenty minutes of silence, the moon finally rose & Derek’s attention peaked. If anything were to happen, it would be now. Peter too slowly shuffled closer to the entrance of the panic-room, anxious to hear anything down there. Silence. For another twenty minutes, not a peep sounded & it unnerved Derek tremendously. Then, finally, Stiles started screaming, yelling, and pleading. The sound both broke Derek’s heart & relieved it from a previously unnoticed burden. So Stiles had been changed, he thought, he could deal with that. But Stiles’ screams became more & more intense. He tried his best to ignore them but they wormed their way into his heart. “Derek! Let me out!” He’s not letting him out, he can deal with it. He’s safe, we’re safe. He can’t be hurt. “Derek! Please! It hurts!” He continued for another dozen orzo minutes before the screamed pleas became yells of agonizing pain & discomfort. Derek could feel his heart stop at every pained scream & was worried that he might suffer more tonight than Stiles would. He was about to open the door when suddenly everything went still. Absolute silence took over & Derek fancied he could almost hear the dust roll over the floor somewhere. Peter too was intrigued by the sudden change in the auditory landscape that he came to Derek’s side. Then, a faint sound reached their enhanced hearing. A soft scurrying, almost inaudible even to them. Looking over at Peter, who looked as confused as he was, Derek slowly began unlocking the door.

As they went down the stairs, step by step, in agonizingly slow pace, Derek & Peter kept their eyes trained on the surroundings directly in front of them. They had expected to see Stiles shackled to the wall, but where he should have been, there lay only a heap of clothes & loose shackles, chains & wires. Derek stopped in his tracks & Peter began scanning the room. No holes in the walls, no damage to the industrial ceiling or concrete floor, nothing. Stiles had seemingly disappeared. “You don’t suppose that he…” Peter began as he watched Derek inspect the room closer. “No, he’s still here. Can’t you smell him?” Peter sniffed, surprised to note that his nephew was right. Stiles’ scent was thick, present. For it to be so noticeable, Stiles had to be still there yet… Derek heard the scurrying again, of claws against metal, & perked his ears, trying to locate the source. He & Peter seemingly determined the source at the same time as they raised their heads in sync & looked up. Before Derek properly registered the form falling down unto him, Peter jumped back & watched in surprise at his nephew battling the stealthy attacker. If he hadn’t come back from the death twice before, he would have said that the scene before him was the strangest thing yet in his life. 

Before Peter, Derek was struggling to get a hold of the thing that had dropped down unto him. It was smaller than he had expected & was so fast that even his enhanced reflexes were almost too slow for it. He was about to roar when he finally caught the attacker, pulled them from his back, held them before him to roar in their face & stared directly at a…

Lemming.

A mother-fucking lemming.

Stiles Stilinski, spazz-extraordinair, wanna-be-jock, super-nerd & all-around annoyance of the town, had transformed into a were-lemming.

To be honest, Derek later wondered if he shouldn’t have eaten Stiles there & then, just to safe himself & the others from all the terrors that followed throughout the next days…


	2. Way of the Lemming

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> That Stiles' form was a surprise would've been an understatement, but saying that the ensuing hijinks were annoying, was to put it mildy & compared at best to saying that boiling water is somewhat hot. And Derek was silently cursing that hag & shapeshifter duo to the lowest circle of hell, time & time again, as the night wore on.

The fight had started easily enough, when they had managed to corner the hag in the old warehouse. They hadn’t counted on her companion shape shifter however & were quite surprised when it had started attacking them from the rear. Unfortunately, the rear was where the humans had been. Stiles had been target numero uno, no doubt due to the shifter’s ability to recognize the ‘weakest’ link in the non-supernatural creatures present. Truth be told, Allison should’ve been bitten instead, having been further back than Stiles but then again, she had been sporting bow, knife & rifle while Stiles had only a bag of spells & potions that was tightly sealed. Within seconds, the shifter had been upon him, bit him in the shoulder & had leapt away from Stiles into the fray & in front of the wolves attacking the hag, which had been cornered. Derek had been the first to realize what happened, turning to Stiles before even Lydia or Allison had done so. Scott, Isaac & Liam had stopped attacking only momentarily, but Derek had been struck frozen on the spot, seeing Stiles clutch his shoulder at the bloodied spot before he had looked Derek square in the eyes & crumpled to the ground in a seizing fit.

Even so, Derek could not believe that the small furry thing currently in his grip was really Stiles. It smelled like him, true enough, but a lemming? Even fate wouldn’t sport such cruel irony, would it? Would it? He turned his face towards Peter, who was merely standing back near the staircase with his hand to his mouth, trying not to laugh at the ridiculous nature of the scene. Stiles in the meanwhile was wiggling about, trying furiously to get out of Derek’s iron grip. Distracted by Peter for a mere second, Derek roared when sharp incisors bit his hands & he dropped Stiles in surprise. Before he even had time to look down, he heard a scurrying on the stairs, looking up quickly to see a small shadow flit up the stairs, out of the panic room & into the loft. Peter was almost cackling now, clutching his stomach in laughter when Derek pushed past him. Stiles was waiting for Derek on the top of the stairs, staring him down with beady eyes. Really, he thought, wolf-lemming stare down? It’s Stiles all right. Stiles was moving again before Derek ascended the stairs any further, disappearing behind the door & evidently going into the main-section of the loft. Exiting the staircase & looking about, Derek carefully stalked forward, keeping his ears open for Stiles’ scurrying & tuning out Peter’s laughter as he flit his eyes about the open space. He couldn’t have gotten high or far, probably hiding out in some dark corner far away from Derek. Two know how to play this game, Stiles, he thought before letting out a booming roar into the empty loft. 

Stiles almost jumped out of his long-coat furry skin when the roar resounded & echoed numerous times through the spacious loft. Quickly fleeing the corner which was all too near to the wolf for his liking, he scurried off into the dark, eyeing a rough pipe expectantly as he approached it in quick speed. If he could go up it & reach the pipework suspended from the ceiling, he could keep an eye on the wolves & get the drop on them whenever they’d be distracted. How dare they challenge such an accomplished hunter as himself? He was halfway up the pipe ere the wolf spotted him & leapt to his position. One second later & Stiles would’ve gone down with the empty pipe, which the wolf tore away from the wall. He just barely made it & was now eyeing the wolf curiously. He could seemingly remember the wolf’s face, but he couldn’t quite pinpoint where exactly from. But he recognized the stare, a mix of fury, annoyance & worry etched into the stark face. Why was this wolf worried? Obviously he was worried about being bested by a hunter much more accomplished & much smaller than them, he thought smugly. Had he not the wounds on the wolf’s hand to prove his superiority? 

Derek could swear Stiles was gloating, as he watched the furry rodent chitter away on the pipe high above him. He suddenly remembered the bite when a small sting reminded him & raised his hand. Surprised to see the two cuts of the small fucker’s teeth still etched in his skin, Derek began to question all he knew about shape shifter’s in general. Surely shape shifting had some limits, no? Wouldn’t it give way too many problems if someone shifted into something really small or really big? Also, since when do the bites of other shifters affects his healing if they’re not alpha’s? He could hardly imagine the lemming in the pipework above as an alpha-lemming, the thought was surely too absurd to even be considered plausible. This was probably something bound more to Stiles than to shape shifting in general, gods know the boy could make it be so somehow. Peter finally joined his side as he kept an eye on Stiles, still wiping tears from his eyes as he saw the animal high above. “He’s always full of surprises, isn’t he? Who would’ve guessed he’d become something like this?” He chuckled at Peter’s comment. This was truly & completely Stiles all right, no doubt about it. They watched Stiles walk the pipes back & forth, exploring the terrain above them. “You know that we could easily catch him, right? I mean, that height isn’t outside of our reach, not really?” Peter commented after a few minutes, making Derek shake his head. “Let him stay there. At least there we can see him & he us. I guess we’ll have to wait it out.” Peter chuckled as he turned around & seated himself. “So, who’s gonna tell Scott & the pack?”

Stiles kept walking over the pipes as the night wore, on, keeping his eyes on the pair of wolves, making sure they couldn’t get the drop on him. When they seated themselves in the sofa after a long while of pacing back & forth, beginning to forget about him, he devised his plan & started the first phase. He explored all the pipes & waited until the broody one of the pair was slowly lulling asleep. He kept his focus on the heartbeat, wanting to make sure the wolf was really asleep & not merely pretending. After almost an hour, he was certain the wolf slept like a brick & positioned himself. Directly above them, Stiles aimed, squealed & jumped on his prey. “Banzaaai!”

All Derek heard before the first of a long series assaults happened, was a high-pitched squealing that came nearer in a matter of seconds. Next thing he knew, something landed on his head & tried to tackle his ears. Apparently Stiles had become bored & decided to test him. And once again, the small & fast critter eluded his grasp for way too long. Peter once again lay double in laughter, clutching at his stomach while a furry ball of high-pitched squeals disappeared down Derek’s shirt & was scratching his back. Derek was tempted to throw himself on the ground to end the thing, but he needed Stiles alive. The pack would murder him if anything happened to Stiles. Then, as suddenly as it had started, it stopped. Stiles was no longer on his person & Derek once more began scanning his surroundings. Peter was still laughing & was about to comment before he suddenly roared. Stiles had apparently taken advantage of Peter’s absentmindedness & bit him in a more than private & very tender spot. Derek was sure Peter was about to shift before he recomposed himself, eyes flashing their cold steel blue as a dark shadow squealed away into one of the many corners of the loft. Derek huffed & knew it was gonna be a long night…

By the time Scott finally arrived at the loft next morning, the entire loft had been upturned. The sofa had been flipped over several times & stood crooked sideways against the stairway, while papers littered the rooms & various objects were strewn about. Derek & Peter were standing in one corner, where Stiles lay curled up in a congregation of pillows & blankets. They looked wrecked, tired & completely zoned out. When they finally took notice of them, they were nearly growling, with fangs descended & claws extended. “Whoa, guys! Just me! What happened? How did he get out?” Derek sighed as Peter turned about & slid against the wall, down onto the floor. By the time they had explained what happened & how Stiles had bombarded them from above on the pipework & out of the shadows by their feet, time & time again throughout the night, Scott was trying his best not to laugh at their being bested by a lemming. Derek glared at him, as if tempting the young alpha to dare laugh & be ready to face the consequences of doing so. Trying to remain more stoic, Scott focussed on other matters as he directed at Stiles. “What’s with the pillow fort though?” Peter chuckled as he chimed in, speaking from his position some distance away from them. “We guessed that he’d be drawn to a nest. Obviously a small nest would’ve been more appropriate, but I for one had no inclination to see a naked teen strut through the loft come morning. Of course, I don’t how my dear nephew would feel about that-“ Derek growled at Peter’s comment, cutting him off mid-sentence. “Best for Stiles to wake up in a nice place than naked on a cold floor. That’s all.” Scott didn’t really believe any of it, but gave Derek the benefit of the doubt. Internally he couldn’t stop laughing & he was so ready to tell Lydia all about this.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don't worry, we're just getting started! :D


	3. Eye of the Lemming

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stiles finally wakes up, without conscious memory of the past night & with ravenous hunger, & starts badgering Derek about what happened.

It had begun three weeks ago, when a child out on a walk had been kidnapped one day & found without a liver on the edge of the town the next day. A hag was quickly suspected due to the modus operandi, but it wasn’t until a second kid had been taken & killed that the pack had been sure. But oddly enough, the wounds on the bodies were not those of a weapon or a hag’s claws, as they had expected. No, they were those of a Rakshasa, apparently an Asian demon that loved eating human flesh or drinking warm blood. When the pack first found out, Deaton knew nigh to nothing on how to defeat the demon, even though he gave plenty of stuff to deal with the hag, but when Lydia found a mention of the demon in an obscurely ancient druidic lore-text, were they were known as Diaithe or god-eaters, they had thought they knew enough. Unfortunately, they hadn’t known quite all they had oughta. The hag had been more difficult to track down than expected, even after her trail had been picked up, & the demon had been extremely powerful, even after they managed to weaken it with a Sanskrit spell. It had been too close a victory, way too close to a harrowing defeat, especially when Derek had been clutching Stiles’ seizing body on the blood-soaked forest-floor by the end of the battle.

Now, Scott, Derek & Peter watched as Stiles finally woke up from his first night as a shifter, stretching his long lanky limbs lazily & groaning into consciousness. He had fallen asleep only when the moon had finally sunk beneath the horizon & he had shifted back in the nest, which Derek & Peter made to lure & calm him down. How in the heavens anyone could ever sleep for seventeen hours straight was a mystery to Derek, even after he saw Stiles do so that day. When the teen shed the cloak of sleep & groggily stumbled upright, in all the glory of his birthday clothes, Derek simply turned his face away to avoid an awkward scene. Peter obviously didn’t care & merely sharpened his gaze over Stiles’ naked form, memorizing every single detail, even as Scott placed himself between the two & was holding up a robe for Stiles to wear with face turned aside. Only then did the lanky teen seem to notice he was unclothed, as he hurriedly flung the robe about himself & muttered something vaguely intelligible before hurrying off into the bathroom nearby. All three of the wolves silently agreed never to let the teen know they had seen just a tad too much of his full glory indeed, though Peter silently praised whatever gods there were for this nice morsel of private memory that he’d reverently cherish for many years to come.

Derek tried his best not to focus on that particular part of what he had just seen, for he was sure that if he did, he would soon seem redder than a tomato & he didn’t wish either Peter of Scott to figure that out or ever see it happen for the same sake. It was bad enough, he thought, that he could even think of Stiles like that, even if he did like the teen more now than when they had just met. Something about his brazen personality & nearly fearless attitude towards danger demanded respect & admiration, even if Derek would never admit to that, privately or otherwise. By the time Stiles finally emerged from the bathroom, they had all moved on to some petty task in effort to make it seem as if nothing awkward had happened, which only aided to make the situation seem as awkward as was theoretically possible. Offering the lanky teen something to eat, Derek prepared Stiles a simple scrambled egg while Scott began discussing pack things & Peter left the loft for some unknown errand. Apparently Lydia had finally managed to track down the hag’s journey back to her probably town of birth & it seemed that she had done quite some travelling indeed. It had ended with a birth certificate from somewhere down in South-America, from some god-forsaken town, deep down in the Amazon jungle. The demon however had been a different tale altogether & they were no nearer to discovering where it had come from even now, making Lydia more anxious with each passing day without new information or leads.

Stiles was simply focussing on these perfectly seasoned & baked eggs as Scott rambled on about some trivial stuff, mostly revolving about how he had been afraid for Kira, yada-yada-yada... Stiles was really surprised Derek knew how to cook & these eggs were really perfect, down to the T, so he thought as he scrambled down the platter of eggs. He couldn’t get enough of them as he devoured bite after bite, his ravenous appetite all the worse after the past night which he couldn’t remember for some reason. Whenever he looked up at Derek, he saw the wolf shift his gaze away from Stiles to Scott, acting as if he probably hadn’t just spend the last minutes staring at Stiles at all. Stiles just choose to ignore it in favour for savouring these delicious eggs, at least as long as they lasted. He’d bother Derek about it once Scott would be gone, which shouldn’t be too soon now that he started talking about truly inane stuff like the weather. Eventually, Stiles finished up & simply said to Scott that, however much he appreciated the concern of Scott & the rest of the pack, he just wanted to rest some more & waved him out as the door closed behind him. Derek was about to get up & move away, before Stiles stopped him in his tracks by grasping the hem of Derek’s all too tight shirt. Gods, why did he just think that?

“Stop it right there, Sour-Wolf.” He said calmly as Derek halted & turned to face him, arms crossed over his chest & looking somewhat anxious, even though that last was somewhat difficult to read considering Derek had the emotional facial expression range of a rock. “What happened last night?” Derek’s heart skipped a beat, making him hold his breath as he heard Stiles out. “I can’t remember a thing. Is that… normal?” Derek breathed again, relieved Stiles was only worried about that. “It’s not usual, but also not unheard of. It can happen sometimes, especially if it was an intense shift.” Stiles looked somewhat relieved, even though new worry quickly etched his mole-dotted face. “Was it bad?” Derek didn’t answer immediately, didn’t know how to respond without making it all extremely uncomfortable. He suspected that Stiles would either be extremely disappointed by his shift, extremely happy or both. He wouldn’t exclude it from Stiles to think of it as a perfect joke as well as an ultimate insult, considering he didn’t understand the teen’s motivation over half of the time they were together for anything. “No. It was… manageable.” Great answer, idiot, totally not suspect at all. Derek punished himself mentally as he saw Stiles become curious, that familiar expression slowly becoming apparent on the pale face.

Stiles saw Derek’s face take on that expression which showed he didn’t want to tell the whole truth & something of anxiety began gnawing at the edges of his mind. Had he done something? Did he transform into something terrible or ugly? Gods, what if he had changed into… him? “Derek, what am I?” Derek’s expression grew panicked for the merest flicker of a second before it grew stoic again. He obviously didn’t want to answer. “Derek. What am I?” Derek swallowed, expression still stoic but his eyes radiating worry & anxiety. Stiles was really beginning to worry now, afraid that he’d been something truly terrible. He didn’t want to go through that, not again. Please, not again. It took Derek a few seconds to realize Stiles was going through inner-turmoil, when the scent of Stiles’ worry finally reached him in the silent loft. He swiftly closed the distance between them & took Stiles by the shoulders, beginning to calm down the panicking teen in his hands. “Stiles, you’re fine. I’ll tell you later, but I can tell you that it’s fine. You didn’t hurt anyone, couldn’t hurt anyone, though heavens knows that you tried.” This memory of Stiles’ successful attack on Peter made him chuckle & the sound of it seemed to draw Stiles out of his rut. “Really? Why are you laughing?” Stiles asked incredulously as he wiped a rogue tear from his cheek quickly. “Let me just say that you gave Peter the run for his wares.” This deemed to have the desired effect as Stiles smiled softly. “Seriously? I, Stiles Stilinski, gave big bad wolf Peter McCreepy a hard time? I would never have guessed.” Stiles quipped as he chuckled to, Derek whose expression of relief & fondness towards the teen made him feel happy & relaxed.

“You’re also a lemming…”


	4. Fight of the Lemming

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It finally sinks in with Stiles what he is & in an anxious moment, he gets startled by Derek - with all usual consequences...

Stiles’ expression on that exact moment was an unbelievable thing of beauty, a mix of disbelief, disgust & amusement. Without consciously knowing quite why, it made Derek’s wolf both howl in contentment & growl in ill ease. He had never seen Stiles in a state of terror before, not truly, but he wagered that this would probably be the closest to it he had ever seen him yet. And he just stood staring at Derek for nearly a full minute, mouth wide open with jaw slack & eyes wide open, dead silence surrounding them both. Then, as if instructed by some unseen director, Stiles near-instantly re-composed himself & looked at Derek incredulously, as if not believing him or believing he was playing a weak joke on him. “You- You’re joking, right? I mean, don’t get me wrong, I love a good joke as much as the next man, but this isn’t a funny one, Derek. Here I am, worried I’m a fox or something like that, something too alike the Nogitsune. I’m worried sick that I’ve done bad stuff, gonna do bad stuff. I can’t handle a joke right now-“ Derek interrupted Stiles’ fast rambling by placing a hand across Stiles’ mouth, which just ended up with it being coated in a rather generous amount of saliva by Stiles’ tongue. “Don’t you shush me, Sour-wolf!” Stiles quipped when Derek quickly removed his hand to clean it. Wiping off the fluid from his hand in disgust, Derek was at least contented to hear that Stiles had silenced himself in response to his action, probably waiting for an explanation as Derek wanted to give. He took a deep breath, steadied his nerves & began speaking again.

“You know that a person who has been bitten can have a different form, depending on their nature. You saw it with Jackson, so you know more than well enough. That’s probably what happened with you. Apparently your true nature is that of a vigilante lemming.” Stiles looked at him wide-eyed & brow cocked high, obviously not believing a word of what Derek was saying, which just made Derek softly huff in annoyance. “Vigilante lemming? What is this, Derek? A DC-comic? How is my true nature that of a vigilante lemming? I mean, a lemming? Those small & furry things that wolfs eat for snacks? Oh god, you didn’t think of me as a snack during the night, did you? I swear to god, Derek, if you even as much as dare thing of me as a snack-“ Derek was getting more annoyed by Stiles’ rambling & his wolf too began snapping its jaws. So he just did what he always did when people from the pack were being loud & getting on his nerves – he roared, the booming sound resonating throughout the entire loft. And then, before he knew what happened, he was slammed against the wall at least ten feet behind him, with Stiles holding out his left palm in fighting stance & looking both startled & surprised at Derek. “Did I just-“ Stiles began, posture relaxing in its usual slack form as Derek pulled himself upright, eyes flashing red as rubies & his mood thoroughly soured beyond Stiles’ normal effect. Stiles took notice of his eyes & cowered backwards as he saw Derek’s fangs drop down, hands outstretched to keep the alpha at bay. “Derek? Oh god, Derek. Don’t be mad. Please, don’t kill me.” And if Derek had wanted to slam Stiles into the wall behind him as a small act of revenge, that last plea made him instantly regret thinking this, the whimper behind the words making his heart pang in fear. Stiles looked terrified of Derek, hands still outstretched & eyes wide. Oh gods, he’s afraid of me.

When Isaac came by, a few hours later, he found Stiles seated against the door of Derek’s bedroom, completely dishevelled & cheeks stained by tears as his red-shot eyes looked up at him, a soft sob escaping his lips as Isaac began to move towards him. Instantly he knew they had fought again, but this seemed much worse than ever before. They fought regularly, with their stubborn personalities clashing from time to time, but never ending in pain but only a deeper understanding of one another. However, he was sure that Stiles had never cried before, not like this anyway, not so noticeable or looking so distraught. As he made his way to Stiles, he could clearly smell how the entire loft reeked of despair, regret & anger. “Hey, Stiles, what’s wrong? What happened?” Isaac asked as he sat down on his haunches & took out a handkerchief. Stiles began to stutter shudderingly what happened as Isaac wiped the tears from his cheeks, brushing hair from Stiles’ face. Apparently his shift had finally unlocked the usual strengths & Stiles had accidentally used them on Derek when he had scared him. Isaac could understand Stiles’ primary reaction when he told how Derek had roared. In his case, that roar usually just grounded him in the moment, making him cower in subjection but Stiles wouldn’t be Stiles if he wouldn’t fight back. True, Derek wasn’t his alpha, but it still impressed Isaac that frail Stiles had managed to surprise Derek. He knew that Stiles acted somewhat as the pack mother, acting as usual partner to Derek in fights, providing back up as Derek provided brute strength. And he couldn’t help but feel pride that the pack’s mother could so easily handle their leader. It almost made him nuzzle Stiles in pride, but he refrained, he knew that was not important, that Stiles needed to be reassured & helped. What was important now was that he’d clean Stiles up & coax Derek out, so they could make up & forgive each other. If he had to wait for their initiative, they’d be waiting a long time.

“Stiles, it’s okay, it’s okay. You’re fine, relax. Go clean yourself up a bit, I’ll make sure Derek comes out, okay? It’s gonna be fine.” Nodding shudderingly as he finally calmed down, Stiles was helped up by Isaac & shuffled to the bathroom. When Stiles shut the door behind him, Derek opened up the door & just glared at Isaac, just glared. “You gonna apologize to him or do I have to do everything for you?” Isaac said indignantly, knowing Derek responded better to blunt commands than friendly pleas. Derek remained stoic for a while, his piercing glare still fixed on Isaac before he finally sighed & opened the door further, inviting Isaac in. Isaac watched how Derek sat himself on the edge of his bed before he began talking. “I didn’t mean to scare him. He was just rambling again, you know how I am when people just make noise & don’t listen.” Isaac nodded, knowing all too well as Derek still had to work on his social interactions in loud situations where no fights happened. “He just pushed me. Made me go all the way through the living room in a single thrust. Would be an understatement to say it surprised me. It annoyed me, made me angry. I shifted without knowing.” Derek’s voice grew tense as he stopped, inhaling shudderingly before he began again. “He thought I was gonna hurt him…” And now Isaac saw just how distraught Derek was by this. He knew Derek trusted Stiles through & through, that he’d go to hell & back to save the teen. He could only imagine how it felt, to see Stiles watch him as if he was nothing more than a feral beast.

Truth be told, Isaac knew well enough how it felt to be in Stiles’ shoes, considering he had been there for many years in his own household. “Are you gonna apologize to him?” Isaac asked sternly when Derek concluded, making the alpha turn his face to him, eyes full of worry & regret. Derek didn’t speak, but Isaac saw enough in those eyes. “Good, but you better do it quickly. He’s listening so…” He said & turned around, leaving Derek alone in the room as Stiles cautiously opened the bathroom-door & stepped out, eyes downcast as if in shame. Isaac just took Stiles in his arms & gave a warm hug before going to sit in the living room, granting them some privacy. Shivering from anxiety, Stiles walked up to the bedroom & watched Derek from the doorway. Derek just eyed him for a moment before dropping his head & Stiles could feel all of Derek’s regret in that simple gesture. Walking up to him, he sat down & leaned against the downcast alpha, who simply whined softly for a second before Stiles slipped his arms about him. “It’s okay, Derek. It’s okay.” Derek softly sobbed as he melted into Stiles’ embrace, all the while Stiles softly rubbing his back. “It’s okay, it’s okay…”

Isaac in the meanwhile did his best not to cry himself, as he listened to the sounds in the bedroom, the emotions of them boring straight into his own…

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm a terrible person :3


	5. Finding home

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The pack settles in a new routine, as old wounds are closed & new facts are accepted. Stiles & Lydia resume their training while Derek is making sure the pack will always have a home to go to.

The hag had been quite hideous, as common legend & vague hints had already said or indicated, but still, to see the horrible truth is very different indeed. Many years of dark magic & terrible deeds had warped her appearance terribly, making even the wolves fall still for a second when they had all first seen her. Luring her to the place of attack had been easy enough, effectively putting her in a secluded part of the Preserve where only a single entrance & exit was available for hikers, locking her in a crag. Her hair had been long & matted, her nose crooked & hooked, face covered in scars & mottled in bruises, with a nigh-preternatural stench constantly permeating her immediate vicinity. That stench alone should have been enough to find her, but obviously magical wards cast by her had prevented that. During the fight, it became increasingly clear that this hag was exceptionally skilled in magic, giving the wolves a run for their meat as her wards & jinxes were constantly being counteracted by Stiles’ & Lydia’s own spells. Had Deaton not trained them for month’s prior, Derek was sure they’d have failed miserably before the first spell had even been uttered by the hag. He had been filled with pride, seeing Stiles stand his own against dark magic, eyes ablaze with concentration & determination…

The first week after Stiles’ first moon was tense, to say the least. Isaac had taken to accompanying Stiles everywhere, partly out of loyalty & for protection, partly because he confessed to Derek he wished to remain close with Stiles. Stiles’ shift had apparently made him the so-called pack-mother, considering he already served as default partner to Derek in any confrontation. True, neither mating or coupling had been indefinitely talked about by either of them, but the pack suspected, if not outright knew. Derek & Stiles were as much parts of a pair as halves are. The entire pack could see how they kept tiptoeing about the issue, pretending the proverbial dragon was still asleep all the while as it was roaring in their faces. Scott was often contemplating whether they should force it or not, but in the end Lydia would always defend the pair & say that ‘love comes naturally, not forcefully’. Scott decided that they shouldn’t intervene for now, but vowed to step in if the situation hadn’t been resolved by Stiles’ next shift, because, honestly, he had gotten tired off all the beating around the bushes that the two seemed to prefer over finally getting to trimming it…

Stiles was spending his free afternoon, the first in two busy weeks, in the new Wiccan shop downtown with Lydia, picking out the right incenses for the next phase of their training with Deaton. He had been afraid that his bite would’ve interfered with his Spark but apparently it had served to strengthen its connection with himself – whatever that would mean. He did vaguely dislike how Deaton made it a point always to act all mystical when it pertained to magic, but then again, the druid did say that magic can not be explained in cold hard facts but only in vague riddles, as per simile to its nature of being in constant flux. So now he took to mimicking the old veterinarian & began responding in riddles himself, though only to Deaton. Deaton of course was becoming increasingly exasperated by this, but damned if he’d show it to Stiles directly, but Stiles knew. He always knew when people began harbouring fantasies about strangling him in their sleep. He considered it a gift by some joker-god or spirit & damned if he’d ever part with it. “Do we still need sandalwood or are we supposed to solely use lavender instead now?” Stiles asked Lydia, who was busily browsing the library-section for interesting titles, as he was sampling the available scents. “Sandalwood for standard incantations, but the lavender is used for the more advanced wards we’re gonna practice next week so both.” She said from behind a stack of books, while reading a bit of some obscure title. “Aha. Okay.” Stiles softly replied as he began his litany for the hard-earned dollars that he’d soon have to part with. It would start with “Alas, I knew them only shortly…” but he hadn’t thought beyond that, but by Jove, it’d be a damn nice litany & he’d remember it always. Maybe.

Stiles was internally crying bitter tears for his poor emptied wallet when they left the shop, before remembering Lydia’s more-than-wealthy financial status. “Why did I have to pay the incense?” He gasped mournfully towards her as they walked to the car. “You didn’t ask me, obviously. Besides, Stiles, you can’t always freeload off me. I might have more than you, but it isn’t an unending well of wealth, you know. Also, I put most of my money in several funds. Wait a few years & then I’ll be more than able to pay anything back.” She courtly explained, concluding the sentence with a wink towards Stiles as she got into the car. Stiles could only compose a memo to himself to always remember that Lydia is a mathematical & financial genius with untapped wells of secrets, tricks & back-up plans. The ride back to Deaton’s was quiet & uncommunicative, as Stiles watched the scenery flash by as they rode on. He found that his magical studies were becoming less & less interesting, the more they went on. He blamed his shift, but truthfully it had begun even before that. It just no longer held the promise or potential for him as it had when they had begun. But he wasn’t going to stop working on it now, not now that he had learned the basics, the simple advanced stuff & became introduced to the complicated stuff. He was going to see it through, but it was going to suck for his attention span, big time.

Derek, in the meanwhile, was doing his best to renovate the entire loft building, he really was but he kept finding problems with the structure & getting in trouble with contractors for the works. Ever since he had decided to let the old Hale-house be torn down & the grounds around it to be sold, he had wanted to make a perfect home for the pack, where they could come to relax, train & live. Isaac was in desperate need of a stable home & seeing the youngest wolf of his pack always looking to his alphas with such genuine care made his heart clench every single fucking time, even though he hid the fact from everyone. He had made sure that the first finished room was to be Isaac’s, near his own & well protected. Now he only had to unveil it to him, with no little pride & hope. He just hoped, prayed almost to every god willing to listen, that Isaac would be contented about it, happy perhaps. So here he was, guiding a blindfolded Isaac to the entrance of his new rooms. “Okay, you can take the blindfold off now.” Isaac fumbled about with the knot, before finally resorting to using his claws to cut it. After blinking a few times, he gazed at the door a few seconds before turning to Derek, a confused look on his face. “Why am I looking at a door?” Derek grinned before replying, heart racing with anticipation & anxiety. “Well, it’s not just any door. It’s your door.” Isaac’s eyes grew wide as the words reached him. “My door? As in-“ Derek chuckled & just gestured him to open it up, to which Isaac quickly responded with a wide smile. Turning the knob & opening the door, the young wolf let out a soft gasp as he took in the room, slowly entering it.

Though rather plain, the central room was spacious, bordering a small closet, well-furnished bathroom & secluded bedroom. It gave the feeling of being cosy yet cornered, safe yet spacious, especially with the windows taking up the entire south-wall of the central room, flooding the chamber with warm light. The bedroom could be locked down completely, effectively turning it to a nigh-impenetrable panic-room. Supplied with the same safety-devices as Derek’s own chambers, it could arguably be the safest spot in almost the whole of Beacon Hills. Isaac turned quiet as he slowly paced the chambers, inspecting them thoroughly before looking out of the windows & sinking to his knees. Derek approached him, noticing he was softly sobbing with a smile plastered on his face. When Derek was near enough, Isaac gripped onto his legs, clutching them tightly & only letting go when Derek sat himself down next to the young wolf. Isaac’s arms flung about him, face pressed down into Derek’s neck as he began sobbingly mutter. “It’s perfect, Derek. Thank you, thank you…” Derek merely smiled as he hugged the boy back, softly reassuring him that he was safe now. “Shhh… It’s okay, Isaac, it’s okay…”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really wanted to make Isaac feel loved. Any who have watched S02 & S03 know that Isaac is an actual sinnamon-rol & deserves all the happiness the curly pup can get <3


	6. Children of the Moon

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The pack thank Derek & congratulate Isaac, as Derek sees a shimmer of the power accumulated in Stiles while new creatures come to call beacon Hills Preserve home. The Nemeton shall live again.

“Children of the Moon, thinking they can take on a Daughter of Nix! You are nothing before my might!” The hag had begun blabbering her religious non-sense the moment she had recognized the trap, backing away from the wolves as she held up her hands in offensive stance. “Do you really think that She can help you against me? The Moon bows before the Night, for She is only allowed to exist because of Nix! Show respect to your superiors, lesser children!” Her grating & noxious voice sounded like decay to Derek, becoming even more disgusting when it deepened & darkened when she cast her first curse against Erica. “Akonito Floga!” From the clawed & gnarled hands, an orb of purple flame ejected at incredible speed, hitting Erica straight in the chest & knocking her backwards several feet, landing her on the ground out cold & human. The spell had forced her directly out of her shift & the others were immediately much more guarded than seconds before. This didn’t bode well & Derek began fearing for their chances, just as Lydia & Stiles arrived on site. “Radix Nocte Puerum!” The pair chanted loudly, throwing a handful of grounded sunstone in the air. The invocation carried the powder along the edges of the crag, settling on the walls & floor of the exit, thereby effectively trapping the hag inside. The moment the powder settled & glowed faintly, the hag screamed & began her full assault, sending orb after orb of the purple flame at each of the wolves. They could barely avoid them from hitting them as they ran about the crag, whilst Stiles & Lydia began their ritual to weaken the hag. “Kalesei Metatopisei!”

When the pack heard from Isaac first-hand what Derek had done for him, they were practically all in a loss of words. All but one, of course. Scott could only look at Derek with glistening eyes, voice choked with gratitude & renewed reverie before hugging & thanking him. Kira, Lydia & Malia merely hugged Derek, all together, as Liam stood back, unsure what to do. Stiles merely remained seated, watching the scene unfold & taking in account everyone’s reaction. When he saw Liam stand back, he rose & walked over to the kid. “Liam, are you okay?” Liam nodded, merely looking up past Stiles at Scott, as if asking permission. Of course, Stiles thought, Scott was still Liam’s alpha. Scott nodded a tad too seriously for Stiles’ like & Liam brushed past him, to thank Derek quietly & turn to Scott’s side. As the rest returned to their seated positions, Stiles gestured at Derek to follow him to the next room. When he closed the door behind Derek, he smiled happily & began talking. “Who would’ve guessed that our very own Sourwolf could have such a big heart?” Before Derek could respond, Stiles held up a hand & continued on. “I’d brag about the fact that I knew, of course, but I won’t. I know you want the people of this pack to be happy, to have a home. You want them to have it because it has been taken away from you & you know how much it hurts to lose it. So I’m only going to say thank you for the fact you outdid yourself for Isaac’s sake. You wouldn’t have done that for anyone else, not even Scott. A chamber here, of course, but an entire apartment just for one person? No, only for Isaac. Am I correct?”

Derek nodded, swallowing past the knot in his stomach as he saw Stiles stand upright, chin high & eyes gazing steadily in his own. Did he imagine it or had Stiles grown higher than him? And since when did the lanky teen posses such an air of authority & power? Derek wouldn’t confess to anyone but himself, but he felt intimidated. He, Derek Hale, alpha, felt intimidated by pack-spazz Stiles Stilinski. Yeah, sure, he was their official Emissary & a Druid Apprentice, as well a shape shifter, but still… He hadn’t even felt intimidated by Deucalion or the Darach & that said quite a lot. Perhaps, Derek thought as he gazed at Stiles’ darkened eyes, the Nogitsune left behind more power than they had thought. Combine that with a brass & studious personality, an innate magical Spark & a shape shifter’s Bite – Gods know what you end up with if such a person wasn’t as good willed & strong of heart alike Stiles. And suddenly those stupid thoughts about Stiles’ moles & golden-amber eyes, thoughts that went beyond his usual protectiveness & grown appreciation of the pack, were invading his thoughts, making it even more difficult to answer the teen before him. Stiles was still waiting for an answer, he realized & tried his best to raise his voice. “True.” It came more as a grunt than as a proper reply, as Derek was afraid his voice would’ve croaked if it had been louder. Stiles cocked a brow & merely grinned for a second, before turning about & opening the door. “Always good to see the chatty side of Derek Hale.” Stiles quipped before he exited the room & joined the rest of the pack to congratulate Isaac. Derek cursed internally as he retracted his claws & tried his best not to squeal his annoyance.

The following week was building up towards the next full moon & Stiles had begun his own preparations for that night. He didn’t want to be solely reliant on Derek to help him & had begun researching whatever might help to keep his mind sane during his shift. He had no intention whatsoever to spend another night as a moon crazed lemming, convinced he could take on born werewolves without aid. Whatever his inner-beast was thinking, he had no intention of accidentally ending up as a snack of Peter’s. Unfortunately, were-lemmings didn’t seem to be a common thing among any shape shifter cultures or stories. As far as he found out, never had a shape shifter been anything but a carnivoric species. Wolves, foxes, coyotes, snakes, … but never anything like a rodent. Just my luck, Stiles thought after finishing yet another pile of useless books, of course I would become the first ever were-rat. Lydia was still engrossed in her current book pile, which was nearing the alarming height of three meters on its “read”-section. Stiles could only think to himself as he was pondering what to do now. He remembered the hag saying something about Nix & the Moon, indicating that perhaps gods & deities had something to do with shape shifters. Of course they did, he thought, but only in mythology. No way they could actually exist, right? Right?

Deaton, as ever, was no use beyond the thoroughly usual advice of “follow your instincts” or “trust your nose”. All fine & dandy for the wolves of the pack, Stiles thought as he kicked his legs back to stretch, but he was not a wolf & very much doubted if his nose was any different. He had no heightened senses, increased strength, claws, fangs, nothing, nadda, zip! He sighed as he relaxed again, looking over at Lydia again, who was now halfway through her last book. Wait, hadn’t she just only finished her third last book? How quickly did that girl read? God, wasn’t her last book in Latin? How did she read it that quickly? Four months ago she had needed help from scholars nation-wide & now she’s reading it as if it’s a J.K. Rowling-novel? God, Stiles thought, remind myself never to cross her on a bad day. He shivered as he remembered how she had dealt with that dark witch a month ago. All the blood & guts, just flying everywhere while she had been smiling at the deflective spell she had cast. Deflecting that spell had not had the prettiest result, but damn if it hadn’t been effective… “Stiles, if you don’t stop squirming, I will call Derek to haul your ass with him on patrol through the Preserve.” Lydia said suddenly as she began picking up the books she had read. How had she finished? When had she finished? “Yeah, okay, Derek – gonna help Derek.” Stiles blabbered as he hurriedly left the store, leaving Lydia to roll her eyes at Stiles’ behaviour. Seriously, she thought, how he hadn’t still vibrated out of skin after all this time…

Derek was about to start his patrol of the east side when he heard the telltale hum of Stiles’ Jeep approaching over the roadway. Somewhat glad not to be alone on patrol for once, Derek waited patiently for Stiles’ to arrive by his side. After a few minutes, he finally walked up to Derek & he merely nodded to Stiles as they started the patrol. Ever since the hag incident, they had been careful to install wards all around the entire town, capable of warning them whenever something supernatural crossed the town lines. Tonight had been usual, with a single alarm about a small creature crossing the border. Lydia had already informed him over phone that it was something along the lines of a pixie or common fairy. Easy enough, Derek thought, fairies & pixies simply want a tree to call home & by now, the area around the Nemeton had been filled with at least three families of fairies & pixies, all inhabiting different species of trees. Apparently the Nemeton attracted chestnut fairies the most, which made sense considering the Nemeton had been a towering thousand-year-old chestnut titan. But the pixies it attracted were almost solely mistletoe-pixies, which Lydia & Stiles had deduced was a result of the Darach’s tampering with the Nemeton & the whole Nogitsune-affair afterwards. Luckily, both fairies & pixies were cordial & happy to cooperate. Now, deep into the usual fall-season, the trees around the Nemeton were still green & growing. In fact, the entire Preserve was beginning to rejuvenate, as more fairies & pixies arrived. Tonight, however, saw the arrival of the next logical supernatural immigrants. As they entered the clearing where the ward had resounded, they were greeted by a hazelnut wood nymph.

As Stiles greeted the nymph & began negotiations, Derek patrolled the area around the clearing. Lydia & Stiles had said that nymphs would be next to follow, considering they were fiercely protective spirits that acted as guardians for communities of lesser supernatural spirits & creatures. Social groups of creatures like fairies, pixies, gnomes, kobolds, spriggans & valravens were almost always protected by one or more wood nymphs, depending on the location & time of year. Nymphs had been having a though time reproducing throughout the states as results of urbanisation & two centuries of wood logging, but the improvements of natural preserves, reforestation & efficient urban planning has send their numbers up again, even if slowly. So it would come naturally that freshly adult nymphs began to roam & fill in the niches left by their dead ancestors. Lydia had also said that the more supernatural & benevolent creatures like nymphs & the like would arrive, the more stable the Nemeton would become & the less likely it would be seen as a rogue source of unconcentrated energy. That & the fact that these creatures would be territorial would mean alliances, back up & less minor hiccups to deal with. With any luck, the Preserve would become self-efficient & self-supporting, removing the need for the pack to solve every small problem. Derek could only hope, as the negotiations between Stiles & the nymph went on. After about an hour, Stiles called for him & Derek trotted through the trees into the clearing. “Derek, I’d like you to meet Paximadi. She has offered to take care of all the hazelnut trees throughout the Preserve & watch over the Nemeton until more of her kind will settle here.” Derek bowed before the nymph, who merely bowed her head before floating away into the Preserve.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Akonito Floga = wolfsbane flame  
> Radix Nocte Puerum = root night child  
> Kalesei Metatopisei = shift summon
> 
> Yeah, I know - still no Lemming!Stiles, but he's coming back next chapter :D I just wanted to use these past few chapters to build up some nice pack-relations, good feels & introduce some happy events into this little version of Beacon Hills. This is all post S04 (minus Derek leaving) & will not take S05 into account. Those Dread-Doctor & Chimera-shit is making the entire series too convolutated x.x
> 
> Yaay! The Nemeton is slowly being restored by supernatural creatures :D
> 
> Next chapter; The Lemming shall tame the Wolf & ride into the nigh with its gorgeous coat flowing freely in the wind!


	7. Night Terrors.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stiles helps Derek with his night-terrors as he deals with his own. The past clings to their bones, like a terrible fog engulfing them, time & time again...

The hag had managed to take down Erica, Boyd & Malia in a matter of seconds by the time Lydia had hit her with a particularly nasty spell, shattering the hag’s left arm to a bloody stump but not before she had managed to finish the incantation she’d began muttering before. As summoned by the hag, the shape shifter showed up mere seconds after Lydia’s offensive spell. A second after that, it had bitten Stiles & joined the hag in the fray. By then Derek had turned around & run to Stiles who had crumpled. Lydia was still concentrating on the hag as the other wolves began battling the shape shifter. It kept changing forms between opponents, being a kanima-knock-off against Scott, a nagual against Liam & a kitsune against Isaac. But as it kept switching back & forth, it held no advantage & was slowly being backed up into a corner as the hag tried her best to guard against Lydia’s unending barrage of offensive spells & wards. The bloody stump was bleeding profusely now as the hag was pushed back against the sunstone seal of the crag, making her cry in pain & anger. Derek was holding on tightly to Stiles as Lydia finally managed to hit the hag square in the chest with a rending curse, splaying open the ribcage & nearly gauging the hag’s exposed lungs as the figure fell to the ground. The shape shifter had been temporarily distracted by the hag’s fall & paid for its sifted focus with three sets of claws piercing its abdomen & lifting it high up before throwing its lifeless corpse to the ground. Even as it fell, the body turned to ashes & blew apart unto the carpet of leaves. The hag was barely breathing now, Lydia inching closer as the wolves turned from the dust of the shape shifter. “Nix, oh Mother, help your child-“ The hag was babbling softly, each expelled word softer than the last as her breathing became ragged & uneven. Before she finished her sentence, her chest stopped still as its final breath escaped the hag’s lips. As all life left the body, its hideous appearance began to soften as her former beauty returned. But before the pack had a chance to see it clearly, that former identity faded from the form as it too turned to dust & dispersed amongst the leaves…

Deaton was impressed with Stiles’ negotiations concerning the nymph, happy to know that the Nemeton was now again guarded as it ought to be. “With some luck, it may attract a chestnut wood nymph. If that happens, she might offer to take the Nemeton as her Child, but that wouldn’t necessarily mean the Nemeton is then restored. No, only an exceptionally old or powerful nymph could do that & I doubt there are many like that still around, even in the old world.” Deaton said to Stiles in relieved tones as they concluded their meeting. Derek wanted to go sleep now, most of all, as the nightly patrols were beginning o take their toll even on him. He had been taking the midnight patrol for three weeks now & he felt his body tire, even with its werewolf-stamina. Whatever’d happen next week, it was now Scott’s turn to do the midnight patrol. All Derek could do was look out for a good night’s sleep & some decent rest. Between the patrols & the renovation of Isaac’s flat, there had been scant amount of time to sleep thoroughly. And Derek knew Stiles had noticed, because Stiles notices everything. But, Stiles being Stiles, instead of being direct, had only dropped subtle hints & not-so-subtle exclamations. Derek swore that if Stiles’d send one more post-patrol “Go the fuck to sleep”-text, he’d use Stiles as the next victim on the first pack training that included boxing or self-defense lessons.

“Common, Sourwolf, time for bed.” Stiles said to Derek as he left Deaton to his nightly work, waiting for the wolf as he held the door open. “No need to babysit me just yet, Stiles.” Stiles merely grinned as Derek brushed past him. “I’m just watching out for you, Der. I’m not gonna leave you until you’ve slept a whole night on end, mark my words. You haven’t had a decent sleep in weeks, so no take-backs or refusing my help.” Derek merely sighed as they stepped into the car & drove to his loft. When they arrived, Derek went straight for his bedroom, readily stripping & shedding his clothes in favour of a nigh-nude sleep. Stiles thankfully remained silent as he followed him into the room, watching Derek settle himself in bed. Once the wolf lay comfortably, Stiles moved closer & lay his hands on Derek’s chest with fingers slowly drawing Derek’s eyelids closed. “Ypnou lykos~” Derek immediately felt his mind slipping into blissful sleep, just barely registering Stiles saying “Good night, Sourwolf”. His sleep was deep indeed, as Derek felt himself enter that realm of dreams & rest, where memories replay themselves in myriad forms. Derek counted himself lucky to only experiencing good memories when Stiles put him to sleep on times like this. Those were the few nights he was never plagued by those awful remembrances of the fire, which always woke him up in a sweat, with fangs dropped & claws out, even after so many years. And Derek was curious what he would dream about today, as he secretly hoped it would be something nice concerning Stiles perhaps… He only hoped…

The dream was pleasant, if a bit fuzzy, something about running in the woods with the pack as the first moon rose in the sky. Disconnected flashes of things, memories perhaps, kept coming & going. One moment, Derek ran along a fox with amber eyes, side by side weaving through the trees & panting in unison, a feeling of perfect connection & happiness. The next moment, he was faced by a woman who felt both terrifying & soothing. Small, lithe, with jet-black hair framing a pale face, black eyes with red irises gazing from it. A feeling of awe, loyalty & calm, confusing him thoroughly. That image he remembered even after awakening & haunted his calm moments for weeks afterwards, but he never spoke of it, feeling he shouldn’t. The next dream-segment was of him facing a shadowed opponent, a creature somehow much stronger yet infinitely more fragile than him. It reeked of burned flesh, a fox’s musk, citrus & pine combo, … It looked familiar, had to be familiar because he didn’t feel scared of it, only intimidated & awed. It didn’t speak, didn’t move, only gazed from its dark cloud with a longing he somehow recognized as someone depressed reaching out for help. He knew who it was, but couldn’t quite tell himself. The answer lay on the tip of his tongue, nearly spoken but withheld by something… And then he woke up, quite suddenly but not as if from a nightmare or in a sweat. It was simply as if his mind has realized something urgent & woke him up for it, but he couldn’t remember what…

Stiles was in the middle of finishing an amulet when he saw Derek rise suddenly, eyes wide open & awake, as if startled by something. He was about to ask what was wrong when he noticed that Derek didn’t feel tense or startled, merely calm. Derek didn’t speak, only blinked a few times before looking at Stiles & laying back down. Stiles had expected him to turn his back towards him & go back asleep, but instead Derek kept facing him, even after closing his eyes & falling back asleep. Strange, he thought, but not abnormal. He soon returned his attention to the amulet, incising the last parts of the sygil & incantation before he took it up & lay it in the oculary he built. It was situated before the largest window of the loft & focussed moonlight in a single spot, for occult use in the creation of amulets & charm bags. He carefully lay it down & began muttering the chant. It was soon finished & Stiles let it lay, turning back to the desk to clean up. Three more days before the next full moon, Stiles thought as he brushed the wood-clippings of the desk & into the wastebasket. He hoped that the amulet would help him, but it could always slip off & fuck up. The next logical back up was a flesh-seal, but that was much more tricky & potentially fatal if done wrongly, but still… Stiles was technically a shape shifter now& he had began to notice his healing was much faster than before, even though it was nowhere as fast as with Scott or Derek. It still took him a good couple of days to recover from a cut, but small cuts & bruises were almost always gone after a single day now, which made it much easier to assure his dad that, no, a rogue catopeblas had not ran into him at full speed & causes his chest to look like a paintball-target.

Derek shifted in his sleep again, but was still facing the desk where Stiles had sat the majority of the night. It was assuring that the alpha had finally opened up around him, even trusting Stiles enough to cast spells on him to get a good sleep & rest. Even just a month ago, Stiles was sure Derek would’ve never allowed that. But a month ago, he hadn’t been bitten yet. Perhaps the fact that Stiles was now a were-creature too had mellowed Derek, something about pack-bonds & such. Stiles had learned that those bonds were incredibly important in strong packs, almost vital to a pack’s behaviour & growth. He felt a mix between pride, annoyance & trust about that. Pride & trust that Derek now fully accepted him, but annoyance that it took a Bite to force it through. Then there was also the fact that Scott & Lydia were silently planning Stiles & Derek to come together as a fully-fledged pair, somehow under the illusion that they were destined for each other. Okay, they bonded really well nowadays & could anticipate almost completely on each other, but that didn’t mean they were destined, not at all. Stiles sighed as he finished up cleaning & put out the lights, wondering if it’d be bad if he slept in the bed next to Derek instead of on the couch as usual. Derek wouldn’t easily wake tonight & surely Stiles could use his spells & help for Derek as leverage in the morning, should Derek decide to complain. Ah, fuck it, he thought as he undressed & crept underneath the covers. Keeping a distance from Derek’s warm body, he focussed on his usual night-mantra, pushing back the dark cloud in the back of his mind that always tended to form in those moments when he was exhausted & his mental strength somewhat weakened. A fight he would always have to battle, every night & before every sleep, all the rest of his life…

In his own dreams, Stiles was always haunted by Him. Even in the good ones, that damned Fox lingered in the background as some far-off & hazy figure, a shadowy spot in an otherwise sunny scene. A doppelganger of himself, with dark eyes, standing under a broad & shadowy tree. A bandaged figure, behind a hazy glass pane in some background building. Sometimes, however, He was closer, much closer. Sometimes he stood besides Him, unable to turn & look, but feeling that creep of decay & nausea he now connected to Him. Other times, he felt Him walk or pass behind him, a brooding aura flying past in the blur of the moment. Only once had Stiles been up front with that stubborn remnant of the Nogitsune refusing to leave him alone. Ironically enough it had been a quiet dream, just them playing a game of chess, instead of that Chinese game he had spend playing for nearly a whole month, locked in his own mind. Neither of them had spoken, they had simply played the game. It didn’t end before Stiles woke up, but he knew that some day they’d resume it, but he quietly wondered when. His dreams with the Nogitsune taking a role in them were very irregular, with no discernable pattern dictating their occurrence or severity. Tonight was a peaceful dream, without screaming or blood, only sweet fragrances & sunshine permeating a green canopy of fresh greens. It was almost perfect, almost…

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ypnou lykos = sleep wolf
> 
> Sorry, no Lemming!Stiles yet, but we're almost there. Build-up is needed! Angst must be subtly infused into the text~


	8. Taming the Lemming

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Full moon has arrived again & Stiles prepares for his next shift, as Derek spends time contemplating their relationship, consciously or subconsciously.

Stiles had been rushed to Deaton once the shape shifter & hag were down, with Derek trying his best to keep Stiles pain-free & comforted. The teen had not awakened from his fainting yet & the entire pack listened in dread as Stiles’ heartbeat was steadily slowing down. Seventy beats per minute when he fainted. Sixty when they started the car & began riding to Deaton’s. Fifty when they arrived there & carried him inside. Forty by the time Deaton started examining him. Thirty once Deaton was done & called Scott in, along with Derek. Twenty when Deaton had explained that all they could do was wait, causing Scott to softly cry as Derek completely tensed up. It went as low as ten beats per minute & stayed that way for almost an entire day. Derek kept listening, fearful that it might stop altogether if he’d stop paying attention. Seizures kept racking Stiles’ body as they came & went, fast & often in the first twelve hours. Near the end of the first day, they were slowing down & by the middle of the next, they had stopped. Stiles’ heartbeat was growing stronger again, evening out at fifty beats per minute now. Derek was wrong it indicated something bad, but Deaton merely said that it could happen, that Stiles’ body was assuming a new default for everything. All they could was wait, just wait. And wait they did, for three days, before Stiles finally woke up…

Derek was reminded of that moment as he watched Stiles sleep next to him, arms flailed about his bedside as Derek merely sat staring, wondering when the kid had gone to sleep. He could see the oculary displayed near the window, so it had obviously happened before the moon had risen to its highest point in the sky last night. The amulet was also present, but his unconscious eye kept glancing over it, only really seeing it when he focussed. Stiles had done remarkably well, making sure an opponent wouldn’t notice the amulet or immediately deduce its effects. Okay, it was simply to grant Stiles the ability to take full control of his next shift, but it could proof a lifesaving device if it ever happened outside of the control of the loft or Derek. After all, it could be all too easy to simply force a shape shifter into their shift, providing you use a lot of force, pain or drugs. Even Derek had still trouble controlling his shift in difficult moments, whenever someone from the pack was threatened or in pain. It had become better after Stiles had become his anchor, but it still could happen. It was a danger every shape shifter had to live with, willingly or not…

Derek was up & clothed, already performing his morning workout, by the time that Stiles finally woke up, groggily & lazily. “Morning, Stiles.” Derek mumbled as he exercised his pull-ups, Stiles slowly turning to face him & steadily focus his hazy eyes on him. Stiles giggled & blushed before he turned about, speaking softly as he did. “Is there any particular reason you’re doing your work-out solely in sweatpants?” Derek grinned as he just kept on exercising. “The shirt constricts my movement & becomes irritating after a while. And I guessed that you’d prefer a good-humoured but half-naked me above a moody & grumpy one.” Stiles chuckled as he slid from the bed, searching for his boxers somewhere near the bed. “Well, that’s true. But still, Der, please consider the poor hormone-controlled teenager who was sleeping in the nude because it was too hot. And don’t you say that you didn’t know I was nude, Sourwolf, I know you too well now for your lies to go unnoticed for me.” Derek just kept grinning as he subtly eyed Stiles’ firm butt & sinewy muscles, the entirety of the nude teen covered in moles & subtle scars. Too many scars on the outside, but not as many as on the inside, Derek thought sombrely…

The day went on cosily, with Stiles inspecting the amulet & testing the various wards he had placed on it, wanting to be sure it was effective & well protected against any damage. Derek merely browsed the internet for all news relating to passing packs, notices of nearby supernatural events or creatures, and so on… A kelpie pack was seen nearby Lake Oroville, which reminded Derek to inform Deaton & ensure they could bring the Kelpie orphan they had found a month ago to the passing pack. Another infant made parentless & alone by the hellhole of shite that is Beacon Hills, Derek thought grimly as he send the information through to Deaton. The poor girl’s parents had been murdered by a rogue wolf & they had barely been able to save her from the feral omega. She had been entrusted to Kira & her parents for the time being, but it was necessary she be re-introduced into a Kelpie pack, to learn her native culture & species. Then there was a report about a small wolf pack passing through next month, having come from Paradise which they’d left last month. It was a really small pack, no more than five wolfs searching for a new alpha to join. Perhaps they could settle here, Derek thought, help protect this place & strengthen the pack. After all, his mother had done the same numerous times. By the time of the fire, her pack had consisted of twenty betas & several humans – which had been considerably large. Most packs never grew larger than fifteen members in total, before they’d split it & part ways. That link he send to Scott, adding they’d better discus it with Deaton. No news about wandering witches, passing Druids or visiting Emissaries – which Derek always called good news. Magic was bad enough a problem already, even without rogue sorcerers crashing the party…

Next day found Stiles being extremely anxious, becoming bothered by the nearing of the moon. He was clutching the amulet like it was a lifeline & became snarky towards the evening. Eventually the sun set & Derek began preparations, ushering Stiles into the panic room once again & shackling him, but this time with the added bonus of the amulet & the rodent cage nearby. Derek would watch Stiles this time around & make sure he’d be able to grab the shifted teen before he could escape & cause havoc again. Stiles merely scoffed at the idea, but Derek could smell just how nervous he was, fingers twitching & leg trembling as the minutes ticked by. Stiles was shifting in his shackles as the tell tale prickle of the moon began to become noticeable, just underneath his skin & writhing about in his blood. It was a feeling he hadn’t been able to become accustomed to yet, but he knew he’d always hate it. It was like a persistent itch underneath the skin, as if an insect was invading your body & making it react to its presence by causing itch & rash, pain & annoyance. Surprisingly, Stiles growled lowly as the moonlight trickled through the narrow slit of glass in the highest part of the wall to his left. Derek only chuckled, before he quickly resumed his stoic & serious expression, watching Stiles intently. He wasn’t going to slip away tonight…

And he had slipped away. Derek was sure he had grabbed Stiles, took him tightly & dropped him in the cage. Apparently the amulet had worked only partially, as Derek noticed that the cage-lock had been fumbled open, as if by expert yet tiny & nimble fingers… Fuck, he thought, as he listened closely to the tell tale sound of scurrying vermin. All was still, the dust in the room drifting softly through the moonlight like microscopic dandelion seeds seeking new homes to root & sprout. He knew that, logically, Stiles would probably be above him, but he saw nothing. He checked the floor, but found nothing safe dust & grainy debris. Then he suddenly felt something behind him, turning around quickly but seeing naught. He felt it again, turned like lightning yet, again, nothing. He was about to give up when he suddenly realized there was a slight pressure on his back, which should not be there. So there he had been hiding, Derek grinned, clever. Before the small furry shifter knew what had happened, he was once again in strong hands, clasping his lithe furry body. He squealed obscenities, cursing the wolf to the deepest circles of Hell, vowing he’d sacrifice the insolent pup to the Goddess of Night & feast on his blood. He’d… He’d… He would… Cuddle… Wait, what? Why did he, the greatest hunter ever, think about cuddling this foul pup? He squealed again, insulted that the mutt was using some crazy kind of hypnotic persuasion on him, making him think these crazy thoughts. He’s not crazy, you are. What? He blinked again in confusion, looking about to the best of his efforts, contorting in the firm grasp of the wolf. Where was the other one, that was whispering in his ear, insisting he knew the wolf, persuading him to cuddle the beast? But he saw nothing, smelled no one besides him & the wolf, noting absently the wolf smelled like pine, citrus & rain. He rather liked that scent, oddly enough, he thought distractedly.

He was becoming rather annoyed now, these strange sounds intruding his thoughts & persistently saying these odd things. I’m you, you dumb rat. Rat? Who called him a rat? He was no filthy rat, no, he was the descendant of a noble race of highborn rodents, with beautiful coat & highly organised social structure. Rats could never even hope to be as noble as he was. Okay, so you’re an arctic rodent of the subfamily Arvicolinea, granted a very nice fur by the power of genetics – so what? Before he could reply to the insolent voice, he was being lowered back into the cage. Then something was bound about his middle & he felt as if a fog was clearing from his mind. Thank goodness, Stiles thought as the bestial mind of his inner-beast was pushed back to his subconscious. He looked about & began acting out the signal he’d negotiated with Derek to show he was himself again. “Well, good to know you’re in control now, Stiles. But your amulet should’ve made you conscious the first moment after your full shift, no?” Stiles squealed as if in a shrug, before he clambered out of the cage & up Derek’s leg. Once on Derek’s shoulder, they exited the panic room & walked out of the loft. They had a full night of moon to enjoy in the wild nature & they were going to enjoy it to the fullest.

As Derek ran through the forest, with Stiles gripping down tightly on his back, he howled in happiness, glad to share the freedom of this moment with the one on his back. He knew not why, but his inner-wolf felt this moment crucial, for some obscure reason. But all he could do now was enjoy the feeling of the wind rushing through his coat & the moon beaming down unto him. A moment of pure bliss, unadulterated happiness & joy, something so precious & feeble to his self-tormenting mind. Stiles too was squealing in pure joy as they ran, his nimble hands holding on tight to Derek’s fur as his lithe form was bobbing up & down with Derek’s long strides. Before they knew it, several hours of mindless running had passed & the moon was at its highest point in the starry yet cloudless sky. Bright moonlight illuminated the Preserve below them, as they stood gazing over it from Table Mountain, which towered above the whole landscape. Stiles was unusually still as they gazed over the city stretched out below them, near the foot of the Preserve. Derek had always liked to come here whenever he had been troubled as a teen & as he faced Stiles again, he could see the boy was thinking about doing just that. It had been a very though couple of months, for all of them but most for Stiles. Getting used to the shift was never easy, especially not when you can only train on it once a month unlike wolfs. He sighed & lay down, feeling Stiles crawl up on his back as he closed his eyes & merely took in the sounds & smells of the world about them, slowly but surely drowsing off…

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lake oriville is located in Plumas National Forest, near Paradise, California. I have placed Beacon Hills thus in & around the North table Mountain Ecological Reserve, which fits Beacon Hills' geography almost perfectly. Lake Oroville is connected to the Pacific Ocean via river, which runs all the way to & through Sacramento, where she connects to Suisun Bay, San Pablo Bay & finally the Gulf of the farallones. So there, that explains how kelpies can reach or pass Beacon Hills ;)


	9. Happiness

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A new dawn awakens...

When Stiles finally woke up, it was with the same sarcastic air & snap he always exhibited after a bad night’s sleep. Had he not been bitten by a shapeshifter three nights before, Derek or Scott would’ve sighed & braced for a litany of bad moods but now they could only sigh in relief & congenial happiness. “How in the hell am I supposed to sleep properly in this nest of a bed? What’s with the dozen pillows? Why am I covered in more than three blankets? Scotty, three blankets & up is only for when your fingers freeze off within minutes of exposure, hadn’t we established that in third grade, huh? And why is there a jar of mountain ash on my nightstand? And why the fuck do I feel as if I’ve been run over by a car, a bulldozer & a lawnmower, in that order?” Stiles didn’t take notice of Derek’s or Scott’s smile untill way after he stopped complaining out loudly & had fallen into a nigh intelligeble mumbling on the way to the bathroom for a needed pissbreak. Only when they entered the kitchen one by one did Stiles notice & start questioning them. “Okay, Sourwolf, you first. Why the fuck are you smiling like that? The only time I ever saw you smile that outrageously was when I got hit on the head by a stick. Don’t tell me that happened again, did it? Or was it a tree-trunk this time, cuz it sure feels like that. Goddamnit, are headaches like this not supposed to happen only when you’re hung-over & not when you’ve just fainted? Gods, I’m gonna need a painkiller for this one.” Scott remained silent as Derek merely watched Stiles walk over to the kitchen-counter. Not a moment later, they heard Stiles hiss in pain as he cursed loudly. “Ah shit! Who the fuck keeps knives next to medicine? I’m gonna-“ His mumbling was suddenly cut off as he watched his hand in horror, before raising it to Derek & Scott, showing how the long cut in the raised palm was stitching itself together neatly. “What the fuck happened?”

When Derek woke the next morning, they were resting in a mossy clearing deep in the Preserve, nearby the newly planted Nemeton-sapling. The woodnymphs were probably watching them right now, but Derek couldn’t care less as he stared at the naked form besides him. In the early morning light, with stray low-reaching sunrays gliding over the curves & angles of his lithe body, Stiles looked like a living marble statue devoted to some long-forgotten fertility god. His soft breathing, making his chest rise slowly in steady rhythm, along with the soft song of awakening birds made the scene almost ydillic & surreal, yet also realer than real. It was like a dream, excecuted to the most intricate detail the dreamer could think of. About them, craddling the edge of the mossy flats, young yellow narcissi were starting to bloom, their buds opening to the chorus of bird songs & sunshine, encircling them in a scene of living green & virbant yellows. Derek adored & dreaded the scene & its memory at the same time, because nothing this idea or perfect could ever last longer than a second or without being follwoed by terrible things. Curling up against Stiles, he held him close & focussed on the lower than normal heartbeat of his best friend. He scoffed internally as he though those words, knew they were more than best friends at this point but he was still waiting on Stiles to either admit to it or to realize it. He just sighed & let his lingering drowsiness take him back into a comforting sleep.

As Stiles gradually awoke & opened his eyes, he was aware of the nymphs watching him from the shadowed edge of the forest surrounding the clearing he lay in. They were weaving around the trees & were casually watching him with kindness & soft curiosity. He knew they were merely keeping guard, not asking questions as to why the Emissary of the McCall-Hale Pack was sleeping naked in the forest. He figured they long ago sensed his new status as a fresh shapeshifter & considering their role in the world & nature, he was convinced they weren’t even phased by it. For them, it was a natural occurrence, something that just had to happen statistically from time to time. Who it happened to or why was probably never any of their concern, as long as the new shapeshifters would only respect them. Nymphs were easy like that, simple rules & morals indeed. Respect us & we respect you. And considering how Stiles & Lydia had been doing their best to promote natural growth & reforestation in the Preserve, they’d probably kill to protect either of them by now. He could recal most, if not all, of the past night, he was pleased to note to himself as he sat upright & looked about him, taking in the scene which they were centre of. It was gorgous, almost a dream, as he merely took in the blessings of their surroundings. The air was warm, lightly warmed by the morning sun, diffusing a faint & pleasant scent of narcissi throughout the clearing. As he took in the sensations of the place, he felt Derek stir ever so slightly next to him, making Stiles turn to face the wolf. He was mostly curled about Stiles, holding on lightly to him as he slept, expression as peacefull as he had ever seen before. In that moment, it was almost as if nothing bad ever could happen, not now at least. Not now…

As Stiles rose & walked about the clearing, he caught sight of the nemeton-sapling nearby. It had grown well since its planting there, doubtlessly cared well for by the woodnymph presiding over it. She had called herself Andromeda when presenting before Stiles & Scott shy over two weeks ago, making Stiles chuckle a bit as he recalled the meeting. She was a rather brass creature, very unlike her usual sisters. Instead of shy & reserved, she was inquisitive & bold, dictating Stiles take her about the Preserve when the meeting was done & over with. She had learned all presiding creatures by their name & walked the perimeter of the Preserve every single day, tending to the trees guarding the border. She was a very welcome addition indeed, as her presence had sparked a renaissance of joy & happiness in all other nymphs nearby. And now Stiles could feel, through her connection with the old & new Nemeton, that other nymphs were already migrating towards Beacon Hills. In a matter of months, the entire landscape would be a veritable jungle & treasure trove of rare plants & animals. It all made Stiles smile in glee, thinking that maybe, for once, Beacon Hills might be more of a heaven than hell. After all, if Beacon Hills is populated by a large number of natural spirits, it would become a hell of a lot harder to attack or even consider trespassing it if you were a rather malevolent mind. Absently he painted a protective sigil in the air & cast it over the area, layering it over the many others he had drawn there in the past months. They weren’t exactly powerful or energetic, but Stiles had already learned that many small parts make a greater whole. Already the previous wards & incantations were linking together throughout the Preserve, casting an enormous ward over the entire area in effect. A passing nymph bowed in respect on her way & disappeared into the gloom as Stiles walked to the sapling.

As he stood over the sapling, just a feet high, he could feel that familiar tug in the back of his mind, that little remnant of the Nogitsune nagging along to him. “You know, it’s still so small. You easily bind it to you, make it yours & make yourself its. Become integral to it, live when it lives, only to die when it dies. It’s so easy, you can do it.” He ignored it, just imagining it as some grating background noise from some useless critter that can no longer threaten him, but yet… Anytime the Nogitsune spoke, his neck-hairs still stood on end. Even after this many months, it still had influence over him, if only a little… And he cursed himself for still being weak like that, not bieng stronger against what was now arguably forever a part of him. He closed his eyes, remembered his exercise & began inhaling. Hold three seconds. Exhale. Hold five seconds. Inhale. Hold three seconds. He imagined himself safely, surrounded by light with positive energies flowing out & through him, filling him. But even in his mind, he could sense the light of the Nemeton, the aura it exuded. He knew it felt his distress, his pain. And as he imagined the flow of energy through him, he could also imagine it returning into the Nemeton before exuding into the world about them in radiant waves of life. The Nogitsune was wrong, he didn’t need to resort to dark magic to link himself with the Nemeton. He was already linked, from the moment he was born to the moment he had planted the new sapling. All life was connected through it & he could never sever the connection, not without killing both himself & the Nemeton. No, he was happy with this. He had the pack safe, Derek happy, himself healthy, the Preserve becoming better with every passing day. Everything was okay…

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For the time being, this will be the last chapter. I have no particular ideas left & would rather see this as "Finished" than permanantly on hiatus :/


	10. Shifted Bonds

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which carefull yet belated observations re-arrange Derek's viewpoint of a few things.

Scott and Derek looked over at each other before either of them spoke. Stiles, his hand still raised as the cut finally finished stitching itself together and began scabbing over, watched their slow response in panicked exasperation. “I need an answer, asap, guys, or I'm gonna have a panic attack. Then I'll faint, you have to pick me up again, all kinds of bother-” Scott spoke up quickly, cutting off Stiles' rant before it managed to screw over what little patience the teen had left in his panicked state. “It's okay, Stiles, just stay calm!” Derek nodded, watching as Stiles very slowly sat himself down on a chair and kept watching them. “You, uhm, well, that hag we fought, remember?” Stiles nodded. “Well, she summoned a shape-shifting familiar of sorts, only it appeared outside of the ward you guys placed.” Stiles nodded again. “Meaning it appeared behind you guys. It attacked you first and... uhm...” Stiles nodded again, very slowly, as if urging on Scott to get on with the show and reveal the prize already before Stiles'd shoot the idiot with a wolfsbane bullet for making him wait so long. “It bit you.” Stiles didn't nod now, eyes merely widening as his pupils became very thin pinpricks indeed. Slowly, Stiles rose, walked past Derek and Scott, into the bathroom and shut the door behind him. Derek was just about to ask if Stiles was okay, when a litany of curses began reverberating from inside the closed rooms, the echoes of the ringing sounds making the two wolves whine in pain as Derek was sure that Stiles had been eagerly practicing his pronunciation of Luciferian curses. Somewhere in the house, a mirror cracked as the litany of curses went on.

Stiles had still been meditating besides the Nemeton sapling when Derek finally woke up. Groggily rising and scanning the protected meadow as he did, Derek's eyes quickly latched onto Stiles. Slowly walking over, he merely placed a hand on Stiles' shoulder, gently calling him up from his internal journey. “Good morning, Der, slept well?” Derek gave him that small private grin, the one Stiles had secretly labelled 'Mine and mine alone'. “Good morning, Stiles, I did. How about you? Remember anything about last night?” Stiles gently nodded as he took hold of Derek's outstretched hand and rose to his feet. “I do, actually, though not everything. But it's a definite improvement over last time, I'd say. Plus, I do remember being sort of conscious of my human mind before you put the amulet on me. So, it's a win-win.” Stiles made a stupid gesture as he made a cashing-sound, making Derek chuckle in mild annoyance, as usual. “Good, now let's go. I'm hungry and I'm not particularly in the mood for raw rabbit at the moment.” Stiles screwed up his face as he imagined the scene of him in his shifter-guise, a spastic lemming greedily tearing – or at least trying to tear, apart a rabbit carcass. “Nope, not in the mood for that either, Der. I'm more in the mood for... waffles! Yeah, waffles with loads of syrup, a bath of whipped cream, some cherries on top of it and drowning in ice cream.” Now Derek was the one screwing up his face. “That's not a breakfast! That's a one-dinner trip to diabetes, that is.” Stiles simply laughed. “I'm a spas and must remain a spas, so I need lots of sugar, energy-drinks and coffee. I need to bounce by sheer will, Der, or my mind ain't no good.”

Breakfast, though not as hypersugarred as Stiles had fervently wished it to be, was good and the rest of the pack were eagerly waiting for Stiles to finish eating and share the night's events. Scott, sitting closest to Stiles, was practically whining when Stiles had noticed their suppressed enthusiasm and patience, in response eating even slower and carefully dragging out their ordeal. A bit later still, Scott was almost leaning over Stiles, his mouth opening from time to time as if wishing to ask anything, only to close it again when a sharp glare from Lydia silenced the unborn words. Finally finishing the last waffle, Stiles sighed in contentment while patting his stomach before speaking. “You know, I think I'm gonna take a nap to digest this perfect foodbaby I just had.” The whole pack cried in unison, an odd combination of sighs, moans and annoyed whimpers. Lydia merely rolled her eyes as she gave Stiles a whack to the head. “Spill, Stillinski, or I'll make you spill.” When Stiles finally began telling what they'd done during the night, he was absent-mindedly stroking Scott's hair, with the crooked-jawed boy having put his head on Stiles' lap when he began. Half an hour later, Erica annoyedly whacked Derek on the arm. “And why, pray tell, does our Alpha never carry any of us when we go running? For dime's sake, Derek, you're more bear than wolf when you're completely wolfed out. Do you know what these perfect nails have to endure when we wolf out to go running?” Derek merely gave her a stern smile and a quick flash of his Alpha-red eyes before turning back to Stiles, who was still recounting the night. It struck Derek then that something had shifted, some balance within the pack had re-orientated itself. And he found Stiles at the very centre of it, as he watched his pack surround the lithe druid. Then he noticed the subtle details that had prior gone under his radar. Isaac's hand tenderly laid upon Stiles' forearm, Stiles playing with Scott's hair, Erica sitting down besides Stiles, Lydia hovering behind him like a feral hawk protecting one of its own, … All the pieces of the puzzle laid themselves bare before Derek's eyes as his mind connected the single dots into a spontaneous word – Packmare. Pack mother. Druid, Emissary, Shifter, Mother. Derek slowly rose, Peter noticing it and following him.

When they entered the soundproof booth in one of the lost corners of the spacious flat, Derek started. “He's the Packmare. How could I have missed that, Peter?” Peter merely chuckled and crossed his arms. “My dear nephew, a lot has been missed by your brooding eyes these past months. Of course, I knew it from the moment he woke. Isaac was the first to tend to him, after all – and if that weren't clear enough a sign, Derek, Scott's been presently in orbit around Stiles for the full month.” Derek realized Peter was right, he had just been too busy handling Stiles' transition into his shifter-guise to notice Scott's constant presence. The fact that it hadn't annoyed Derek to have so close by all that time, when it should have as was the case prior to Stiles' bite, should have been a dead give-away. Derek knew he could be stubborn and ignore important things when he was singularly focussed on something but he hadn't feared it was that bad. And then the nights with Scott guarding Stiles, even when he was sleeping with Derek, also took on another meaning. Yes, Derek had even observed Stiles and Scott sleeping together in bed a few times, but had simply chalked it up to over protectiveness from Scott's part and a need for security from Stiles' part – but the fact that Scott hadn't talked about his actual relationship with his girlfriend however... What was her name again? Derek had trouble remembering certain things the past month, now recognizing it as the side-effect of heavily-shifted pack-bonds and the settling in of a new powerful presence. He had merely not noticed that powerful presence because it had always been there. Stiles had always been powerful in his own right, even before his latent Spark awoke or he was possessed by the Nogitsune. Stiles had simply picked up some powers along the way, all the while honing and growing his own latent powers. He had been close to, if not more, powerful as any shifter by the time he was bit. Anyone could have missed it – anyone, except of course Peter. Who was merely chuckling as he observed Derek putting together the facts in a truthful coherent narrative.

“My dear nephew, if I may help, I'd advice you to focus on the current pack-bonds you should be easily able to observe with your Alpha-powers. Let me aid you.” Peter crept closer, instantly digging his nails into Derek's nape when he was momentarily confused and distracted. Derek could feel Peter's aura flowing through him, helping him see through the red-coloured lens of his Alpha-sight. And as Peter helped him do so, Derek instantly observed the thread connecting him to his uncle – a strained but vibrant blue, a bond of blood betrayed once but loyal now. And then Peter/Derek shifted his eyes and saw the other bonds, seeing them clearly through the intervening layers present between him and his pack. A shining emerald thread - a bond of trust and love, forged in fire and blood. Stiles, Derek knew, as the thread softly reverberated with the syllables – a response almost instantly received from Stiles' side. But there was another emerald thread, between Stiles and Scott, Derek recognized. It was as strong as the one between Stiles and Derek, but it shone less brightly, older and more efficient in many ways. And it was not the last, because now there was the beginning of an emerald thread between Derek and Scott too, still obviously gold before the emerald sheen had begun replacing the luminous yellow. In his transition to being a shifter, Stiles had unwittingly changed the bonds between several pack-members, Derek now realized. He was actually in the process of making Derek and Scott compatible somehow, fit to life together, to protect and love Stiles – together. Derek felt Peter retract his nails, but Derek managed to keep the sight active. Blue between Peter and Lydia, evidence of his manipulation of the banshee long ago. Emerald between Erica and Boyd – who'd be surprised? And... emerald again, but more gold – emerald at its core now, where it once might've been different. Isaac – and Stiles. Mare and babe, so to say. And all Derek could think of was how his heart filled with pride and love at that fact...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Surprise! New chapter! Haha! Who'd have guessed? ;D I sure didn't :B
> 
> Pack Bonds!
> 
> Stiles/Scott = Green = Deep friendship/Love  
> Stiles/Derek = Green = Deep respect/Love  
> Stiles/Isaac = Green/Gold = Admiration/Protection/Love  
> Erica/Boyd = Green = Deep friendship/Love  
> Derek/Peter = Blue = Betrayal/Renewed Loyalty  
> Lydia/Peter = Blue = Betrayal/Renewed Loyalty
> 
> All other non-specified bonds, internally in the pack, are to be understood as being Gold = Loyalty/Friendship

**Author's Note:**

> Yes, Stiles is a were-lemming. Because, just imagine it, were-Stiles annoying the shit out of Derek on every full moon with his new form. The possibilities~ <3


End file.
